


Role Model

by undyneorgana



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Gen, Hux is a fanboy too, Krennic is Hux's Vader, also the only person that doesn't realise that Krennic is a hot mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 20:13:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9458729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undyneorgana/pseuds/undyneorgana
Summary: As a boy, General Hux accompanied his father on a trip to Coruscant. There, he received a gift in his first and only meeting with Director Orson Krennic.





	

The first time Brendol took little Armitage to Coruscant, it was to give him a glimpse of the inner workings of the Empire; to show him what he was going to inherit as he grew into a devoted Imperial -- perhaps one day he’d even be a captain or a commander, if he applied himself.

 

The trip was to be composed largely of meetings; checking in and giving status reports on the Academy. There was a little time left over in which father and son did a little sightseeing -- Brendol mentioned offhandedly, more than once, that the Empire was responsible for all the splendour they saw. Armitage had been amazed by all he’d seen, including his father, away from the Academy, being a little less reserved than normal.

 

They were invited to a very prestigious dinner on their third evening, which the Emperor himself was perhaps going to attend. It would hardly do for Brendol’s son to embarrass him in front of the most powerful man in the whole galaxy; as such, as they travelled to Coruscant, Brendol had drilled Armitage on proper manners, and when it was appropriate to speak at all. (“ _Speak only when spoken to, unless I salute them, then you don’t speak under any circumstances._ ”)

 

It was hard to keep a five-year-old on his best behaviour, but the responsibility of maintaining his father’s reputation that Brendol placed on Armitage’s shoulders kept him quiet.

 

One meeting was an off-the-record one with Director Orson Krennic, who was a key player in a project that had been causing quite a stir. It had, a long time ago, been credited to Dooku and the Separatists, but the Empire had long since taken ownership. It was mostly personal curiosity, as the project still carried an air of secrecy, but Brendol also wished to know where it was his students would one day be heading.

 

Before the meeting, Brendol helped Armitage dress in the miniature Academy uniform that had been made for him, and made sure his unruly orange hair was neatly combed back from his face.

 

The door opened automatically as they strolled up. Krennic’s office was as decadent as was possible for someone of his standing. He’d always been an ostentatious man. On the walls were neatly-rendered diagrams, the images onscreen slowly rotating and text scrolling along the bottom. Against a wall on a sideboard were a collection of liquors, arranged by colour and price. Aside from his impressive drink display, the whole room was dark grey and stark white.

 

Krennic was seated at his desk, tapping insistently at a datapad with his eyes narrowed in concentration.

 

Brendol cleared his throat, letting go of Armitage’s hand, which he’d been holding to make sure he wasn’t lost on the way there. “Director Krennic.”

 

“Ah, Brendol, come in.” He stood, gesturing to the single seat in front of his desk. He glanced with a raised eyebrow at the boy standing behind Brendol’s leg. “Who’s this?”

 

“My son, Armitage. He’s learning about life in the capital.”

 

“Hello there,” Krennic said, smiling cursorily at the boy. Behind Brendol, he lifted his thumb to his mouth, grabbing a fistful of his father’s pant leg. Brendol cleared his throat.

 

Armitage straightened, hands clenched at his sides. “Hello, sir.”

 

“How old are you, Armitage?”

 

The boy held up his hand, his five little fingers splayed out wide. He glanced up at his father and added: “Five, sir.”

 

“My, my, you’re nearly old enough to join the ranks! And have you enjoyed seeing Coruscant?”

 

Uncertainly, the boy looked again at his father. “Mmm… yes. I like the tall buildings.”

 

“Very good. I’m pleased to meet you, Armitage.” Krennic turned his attention to Brendol. “Can I get you a drink?”

 

Brendol shook his head and lowered himself carefully into the seat opposite Krennic, who sat too. Armitage toddled towards the desk, clutching its glass top with his pudgy hands, peeking over it at Krennic.

 

“The project is going well, then?” Brendol said, habitually squeezing his left thumb in his right fist. “I’ve heard very impressive things.”

 

Krennic straightened with a smile. “We have one of the best in the galaxy working on the weapon. Have you ever met Galen Erso?”

 

Brendol wracked his brain. The name sounded vaguely familiar in a distant way. No face came to mind; he must have heard him mentioned in passing.

 

“Father,” Armitage chirped.

 

“Hush,” he replied dismissively, looking up at Krennic. “Perhaps. A friend of yours?”

 

“We met in the Futures program, yes. His specialty are kyber crystals.”

 

Brendol frowned. “Jedi hoodoo? That’s what we’re relying on?”

 

“No, no, it’s very firmly based in science.” Krennic paused, watching Armitage stare, fixated, at a model of the space station hovering an inch or two above his desk. He strained for it with a short little arm.

 

“Armitage,” Brendol barked. Shamed, the boy stood ramrod straight by Brendol’s chair. Krennic smiled, sliding the model, which was large enough to fill a grown man’s palm, towards the boy.

 

“There you go, son, why don’t you play with that while we talk.”

 

Armitage stared up at Krennic with a disbelieving smile on his face and stepped forward to take the model in both of his hands, turning it over and inspecting the crater with a grin.

 

“Come here,” Brendol said, lifting his son onto his lap. He returned his attention to Krennic. “Science, you were saying. Where exactly have you gotten a supply of crystals like that?”

 

Krennic smirked, tapping the side of his nose. “It’s surprisingly stable under the care of someone like Galen. He’s an extremely talented scientist.”

 

Brendol tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “I’m sure. Is it operational, then?”

 

Leaning back in his chair, steepling his fingers, Krennic’s face took on a look of intense, euphoric satisfaction. “It was tested on a Mid Rim moon recently. Completely destroyed the capital city in a matter of moments.”

 

“That’s very impressive. You must be proud.”

 

Krennic nodded. “We’ll need immense manpower to keep it operational in the future. Your work will definitely be cut out for you.”

 

“I look forward to it.”

 

“Would you like to see?” Krennic asked, leaning forward to flick through some files. Without waiting for Brendol’s response, he pulled up a holo of an orange planet. As they watched, a beam struck the surface near a small city, and the ground splashed up as easily as if it was water, taking, as Krennic claimed, only a few moments to envelop the city in a storm of destruction. The resulting explosion reached up into the atmosphere, surpassing the scope of the image.

 

Krennic sped through the footage of the dust settling, but at the end of the recording, there was nothing left -- simply huge hunks of rock floating in the space the planet had been.

 

“Kyber crystals,” Brendol said, reverently, eyes wide. Armitage, the model still clutched tightly in his hands, looked with awe between his father and Krennic. “Kyber crystals did _that_?”

 

The director gave a sedate, smiling nod. “In less than half a standard hour.”

 

“This scientist of yours… must be as gifted as you say, Krennic.”

 

“If anything I’ve understated his brilliance.”

 

Brendol chuckled -- knowing Krennic’s reputation, it wasn’t impossible that this scientist had become entangled with him in order to advance his career. Clearly that had been rather the clever move.

 

It appeared that Krennic had a badly concealed crush on this Galen Erso -- the grin on his face was testament to that.

 

“I’m very glad to see the firepower we have at our disposal.”

 

“I’m very glad to be able to showcase it,” Krennic replied, again giving Armitage a casual once-over. “To our younger generation, too.”

 

A moment passed.

 

“Well, director, thank you for your time, but I’m sure you have plenty of work ahead of you.”

 

“Yes, likewise for you, Brendol. Always good to see such an esteemed educator. Do let me know next time you’re visiting Coruscant, I’d love to have you and Maratelle for dinner.”

 

Brendol lifted Armitage off his lap and stood, placing the boy gently on his feet. He was hugging the space station model to his chest.

 

“Give the director his model, Armitage.”

 

The boy pouted at his father. “But-”

 

“We’ve got lots of other meetings, son. Come on.”

 

The little arms squeezed the model all the tighter. “No.”

 

“Armitage Hux, you have until the count of three.”

 

The boy gulped in a breath and opened his mouth to squeal.

 

“Now, now,” said Krennic. Armitage stared at him, agape. “Why don’t you hold onto that for me, young man? Perhaps one day you’ll work on the station with me, mm?”

 

“Yes, sir,” barked Armitage, holding the model in one arm so as to salute with the other hand. “I will, sir!”

 

Krennic looked back to Brendol and nodded, impressed. Brendol took his son’s free hand in his, and they departed.

 

X

 

General Armitage Hux was not a sentimental man. The things that brought him satisfaction were order, control, and fastidiously maintained routines. There was no room, in his position, for anything else. Feelings were a gateway to chaos and disorder. His observation of a certain extraordinarily dramatic knight-slash-annoyance was testament to that.

 

It was not sentimentality that fuelled his connection to Director Orson Krennic. It was admiration for someone driven and motivated with ideas that changed the face of the galaxy. He had only met him the once, as a small boy, astounded by the splendour of his office, the brilliance of his pure white uniform and intelligent, piercing eyes. Shortly after, he had been killed in the battle of Scarif, along with a terrorist group that had become known as Rogue One -- despite their infiltration of an Imperial base, they had since been canonised by the Resistance. Krennic’s death had been the first in a tragic chain of events which ended with the fall of the Empire, and the upheaval of Hux’s childhood.

 

As Hux rose through the ranks of the First Order, thoughts of Director Krennic never strayed far from his mind. If he were still alive, Hux liked to think he would have worked on the construction of Starkiller Base; his knowledge would have been a great asset to the cause. In a small shameful corner deep within him, the thought of being able to show Krennic everything he’d accomplished brought him solace.

 

As a teenager and a young man, Hux had kept the model wrapped carefully, securely, in his belongings -- despite shedding a tear or two in his room after watching the holofootage of the Death Star’s destruction of Scarif, he was not demonstrative. That was a lesson his father had always taught.

 

But, now that he was in a more permanent situation, the model of the first Death Star had pride of place, hovering above his desk. Sometimes, if a problem was troubling him, Hux would simply watch it bobbing up and down almost cheerily, or spin it with a finger, just like the ancient globe on a stand of Arkanis that his father had kept in his study.

 

It was different, of course, to the fixation that Kylo Ren had for Darth Vader, which in all frankness bordered on the fetishistic. Hux did not blindly parrot Krennic’s style and work, as Ren did with anything that could even remotely be related to Vader. Hux’s regard for Krennic was entirely distant and intellectual, even if he did clutch the memory of him as closely to him as he had, as a boy, clutched the model of the Death Star.

 

There was one difference from Krennic that Hux strove for: where the director had died before seeing his work reach fruition, Hux would not. He would see order restored. He would not fail.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so tickled by the thought of this happening, I had to write it down :D
> 
> I'm not saying Hux keeps Krennic's cape wrapped in plastic in his wardrobe, except that's exactly what I'm saying.


End file.
